Normally I don't comment on people's newsletters if I don't know them personally, as it feels a bit presumptive. But I was really moved by this issue, and I wanted to let you know two things:
--Your writing about the internet is some of the best writing on the topic that I have ever encountered. I am considering citing it in my dissertation, which is an odd form of praise, but speaks to how thoughtful and necessary I think it is. People love to complain about anyone being critical. And honestly, I don't even experience social media in the same way you discussed! But that's okay--it was well worth reading anyway, and made me think.
--Your description of Iowa winter hit me hard, in an empty place I didn't realize was empty. I grew up in Michigan, and these cold open winter days of snow and silence and bright, bright light are part of the poetry of my life, and I didn't realize that I had seldom heard anyone write about it well until now. And right now I live in Ohio, and there is very little snow and it doesn't really get cold, and winter is just blah, with none of the fierce beauty. Thank you for reminding me of that beauty.
Hi there - I just want to say that I got so upset reading that people were upset by your last newsletter and thoughts about social media. When I read your last newsletter, I felt that you were able to put the words to what it is that I feel and don't enjoy about sharing with my followers. I think most people really don't know what it's like to share something (anything - something random or something small that brought you joy) and be bombarded with a million DMs asking what it is - you know they don't really care, so why are they asking? Why do they have to know? I've never been able to make sense of it! I have a small business - and I actually had to stop using social media because I found this to be so draining. It's not real connection. You hit the nail on the head. Please don't stop writing or talking about it. The people who are getting offended are the ones who need to hear it most.
Speaking as an Iowa City (former) bookseller, we'll miss you (and there goes a fully 20% of the barista's income at Prairie Lights). You really painted a wonderful picture of Iowa City in January with the students MIA. Love your writing, enjoy reading your thoughts. Only have one caveat about people asking "where things are from": if I come across a passage that I'm unaware of and it strikes me as interesting, count me as one of the ones who would like to know the source. Even at sixty-four I enjoy reading authors and books and articles and blogs (like yours) that I'm unacquainted with, and if someone quotes a funny line from Christopher Hitchens I would like to know the piece quoted so I can read more along the same lines (and God knows Hitchens is lousy with wonderful quotes). People are looking upon you rather as a resource when you share something that strikes your fancy. When the booksellers at Prairie Lights place a copy of FILTHY ANIMALS in a customer's hand and say, "Really, read this," there's not much difference. In a society buzzing with bright, shiny objects and competing feeds of media commanding our attention, we are in dire need of curators. You'd make a pretty decent docent.
Your audience is likely far more diverse than you imagine...those who respond are not necessarily a representation of the whole. Sometimes every word of your essay resonates, sometimes I ponder a sentence for days, sometimes the subject matter holds little interest but I enjoy the lyricism of your words. The reader's response is entirely beyond your control, which provides the freedom to express your characters and perspectives in a manner truest to your vision.
Love this! "I thought I needed new ideas. That I needed to go out into the world and consume and find better things to stuff into my work. But what I needed, really, was to pay better attention to the things that were already in me."
Yours is the only substack I read every week. I read it because you ask interesting and genuine questions and ask them with a curiosity about yourself and the world that seems based in an honest appreciation for meeting yourself, people, and places, wherever they are in that moment without forcing something to be something it's not. After I read your pieces I feel more gratitude for my surroundings because of the way you model noticing. It's lovely and rare. Thank you.
I love your newsletter. It is my FAVORITE. And what you've been articulating about algorithmic behavior and parasocial relationships has been so keen and so welcome. I can't wait for your novel--I love reading about art and power and where it all goes in the social context. Plus, I have this theory that we partly read fiction because it's a socially sanctioned form of gossip, and thus grad school types behaving badly ... well, I'll see you there.
You've managed to sum up something I've had a really hard thing doing myself. I think the part about being seen not as a human but as some kind of service to others is so much of what I feel, too. AND the idea of sharing to share but not for the sake of consumption– THAT. This was an amazing read. I don't find you a crank at all, and I get what you're saying. And that makes me feel seen, too.
“That I am not really a person at all to them. I am content. I am amusement. I am a surface on which they can project and what individual value I possess exists solely for extractive and acquisitive purposes.”
This is how I felt when I used to model, and it was why for years I hid the fact that I had modeled (or that I got back into it in a more anonymous way later). For the record no one ever thought I modeled until I told them I did: I’m not that tall and beautiful but there’s work for people like me, for thousands like me, in fact, who no one has ever heard of.
The point being that every time it felt like someone was doing this to me, the projection, I mean, it was very painful. But not only was it very painful but being ridiculed for finding it painful added to the pain of it.
It made me cringe-y and jumpy and defensive. And all the while it was like everyone thought I was unreasonable and should just enjoy that people wanted a piece of me.
Now that I’m a cartoonist and writer I thought I was imagining it when I began to feel this way about what I guess is my (small) public persona, as it never occurred to me this could be the case.
I had a guy tell me I was “so transparent and specific,” and that it made him feel “powerless,” and I guess that was a gift (though it was also a red flag, and things went downhill from there.) I never forgot that and I think it applies broadly, to many aspects of life.
I guess no matter what you do when you have a public presence it will be an issue and I always wish I could be as gracious as other people I observe. But maybe under the surface of that placid exterior they’re feeling the same conflict.
Thank you for this, I needed it today! This feels especially meaningful right now as I think about this moment in the pandemic and how to try to stay creative (aka, pay close attention to the things that matter to me) in the midst of so much uncertainty and pain.
“Recommendation engines,” that’s real talk. Really felt what you were saying about extraction. There are still some of us out here who truly want to share and have a conversation ✨
Please, cant we have more discourse like this regarding social media. When I talk this way to my friends, I'm often accused of thinking too much. Loved the "hive mind search engine were all building." So true.
I'm native Iowan and have spent a lot of time in IC. Thanks for a walk down memory lane.
"The pain of waking up in the morning and trying to express something real about yourself is very real to me." Never before have I read a better articulated sentence about the exact pain I feel each day. So much of what you write in this particular letter made sense, resonated with me and also made me think. Keep writing so we can keep thinking with you!
Normally I don't comment on people's newsletters if I don't know them personally, as it feels a bit presumptive. But I was really moved by this issue, and I wanted to let you know two things:
--Your writing about the internet is some of the best writing on the topic that I have ever encountered. I am considering citing it in my dissertation, which is an odd form of praise, but speaks to how thoughtful and necessary I think it is. People love to complain about anyone being critical. And honestly, I don't even experience social media in the same way you discussed! But that's okay--it was well worth reading anyway, and made me think.
--Your description of Iowa winter hit me hard, in an empty place I didn't realize was empty. I grew up in Michigan, and these cold open winter days of snow and silence and bright, bright light are part of the poetry of my life, and I didn't realize that I had seldom heard anyone write about it well until now. And right now I live in Ohio, and there is very little snow and it doesn't really get cold, and winter is just blah, with none of the fierce beauty. Thank you for reminding me of that beauty.
Hi there - I just want to say that I got so upset reading that people were upset by your last newsletter and thoughts about social media. When I read your last newsletter, I felt that you were able to put the words to what it is that I feel and don't enjoy about sharing with my followers. I think most people really don't know what it's like to share something (anything - something random or something small that brought you joy) and be bombarded with a million DMs asking what it is - you know they don't really care, so why are they asking? Why do they have to know? I've never been able to make sense of it! I have a small business - and I actually had to stop using social media because I found this to be so draining. It's not real connection. You hit the nail on the head. Please don't stop writing or talking about it. The people who are getting offended are the ones who need to hear it most.
Speaking as an Iowa City (former) bookseller, we'll miss you (and there goes a fully 20% of the barista's income at Prairie Lights). You really painted a wonderful picture of Iowa City in January with the students MIA. Love your writing, enjoy reading your thoughts. Only have one caveat about people asking "where things are from": if I come across a passage that I'm unaware of and it strikes me as interesting, count me as one of the ones who would like to know the source. Even at sixty-four I enjoy reading authors and books and articles and blogs (like yours) that I'm unacquainted with, and if someone quotes a funny line from Christopher Hitchens I would like to know the piece quoted so I can read more along the same lines (and God knows Hitchens is lousy with wonderful quotes). People are looking upon you rather as a resource when you share something that strikes your fancy. When the booksellers at Prairie Lights place a copy of FILTHY ANIMALS in a customer's hand and say, "Really, read this," there's not much difference. In a society buzzing with bright, shiny objects and competing feeds of media commanding our attention, we are in dire need of curators. You'd make a pretty decent docent.
Your audience is likely far more diverse than you imagine...those who respond are not necessarily a representation of the whole. Sometimes every word of your essay resonates, sometimes I ponder a sentence for days, sometimes the subject matter holds little interest but I enjoy the lyricism of your words. The reader's response is entirely beyond your control, which provides the freedom to express your characters and perspectives in a manner truest to your vision.
Brandon, this is so good.
Nodded along to so much of this. Please keep expressing. I don't care where it's from.
Love this! "I thought I needed new ideas. That I needed to go out into the world and consume and find better things to stuff into my work. But what I needed, really, was to pay better attention to the things that were already in me."
Yours is the only substack I read every week. I read it because you ask interesting and genuine questions and ask them with a curiosity about yourself and the world that seems based in an honest appreciation for meeting yourself, people, and places, wherever they are in that moment without forcing something to be something it's not. After I read your pieces I feel more gratitude for my surroundings because of the way you model noticing. It's lovely and rare. Thank you.
I love your newsletter. It is my FAVORITE. And what you've been articulating about algorithmic behavior and parasocial relationships has been so keen and so welcome. I can't wait for your novel--I love reading about art and power and where it all goes in the social context. Plus, I have this theory that we partly read fiction because it's a socially sanctioned form of gossip, and thus grad school types behaving badly ... well, I'll see you there.
You've managed to sum up something I've had a really hard thing doing myself. I think the part about being seen not as a human but as some kind of service to others is so much of what I feel, too. AND the idea of sharing to share but not for the sake of consumption– THAT. This was an amazing read. I don't find you a crank at all, and I get what you're saying. And that makes me feel seen, too.
Love this. Please keep sharing.
“That I am not really a person at all to them. I am content. I am amusement. I am a surface on which they can project and what individual value I possess exists solely for extractive and acquisitive purposes.”
This is how I felt when I used to model, and it was why for years I hid the fact that I had modeled (or that I got back into it in a more anonymous way later). For the record no one ever thought I modeled until I told them I did: I’m not that tall and beautiful but there’s work for people like me, for thousands like me, in fact, who no one has ever heard of.
The point being that every time it felt like someone was doing this to me, the projection, I mean, it was very painful. But not only was it very painful but being ridiculed for finding it painful added to the pain of it.
It made me cringe-y and jumpy and defensive. And all the while it was like everyone thought I was unreasonable and should just enjoy that people wanted a piece of me.
Now that I’m a cartoonist and writer I thought I was imagining it when I began to feel this way about what I guess is my (small) public persona, as it never occurred to me this could be the case.
I had a guy tell me I was “so transparent and specific,” and that it made him feel “powerless,” and I guess that was a gift (though it was also a red flag, and things went downhill from there.) I never forgot that and I think it applies broadly, to many aspects of life.
I guess no matter what you do when you have a public presence it will be an issue and I always wish I could be as gracious as other people I observe. But maybe under the surface of that placid exterior they’re feeling the same conflict.
Thank you for this, I needed it today! This feels especially meaningful right now as I think about this moment in the pandemic and how to try to stay creative (aka, pay close attention to the things that matter to me) in the midst of so much uncertainty and pain.
“Recommendation engines,” that’s real talk. Really felt what you were saying about extraction. There are still some of us out here who truly want to share and have a conversation ✨
Please, cant we have more discourse like this regarding social media. When I talk this way to my friends, I'm often accused of thinking too much. Loved the "hive mind search engine were all building." So true.
I'm native Iowan and have spent a lot of time in IC. Thanks for a walk down memory lane.
"The pain of waking up in the morning and trying to express something real about yourself is very real to me." Never before have I read a better articulated sentence about the exact pain I feel each day. So much of what you write in this particular letter made sense, resonated with me and also made me think. Keep writing so we can keep thinking with you!
PS: as a space filler, sharing my newsletter so you could read, subscribe and share in your circles if you have the time https://anandim.substack.com/p/scurf99-this-time-last-week